


Morning (Mayhem) Kisses

by Artemis_Dreamer



Series: Kisses [2]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: FA!Tony, Food Kink, FrostIron - Freeform, Gaining!Loki, Humor, Junk Food - Freeform, M/M, Stuffed!Loki, Stuffing, Tight Clothes Kink, Weight Gain, binge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 12:44:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_Dreamer/pseuds/Artemis_Dreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which there is more of Loki to love, Tony still has a one-track mind, and Hawkeye throws a fit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning (Mayhem) Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This fanfic contains a very specific kink - namely food binging resulting in stuffing. It also contains weight gain of a main character.
> 
> If this isn't your thing, please don't read further. Essentially, don't like, don't read. Thanks!

It was late morning when Loki awoke, stretching lazily and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The softness of this bed was remarkable, and when he slept in it, he was reminded of all of the luxuries that he had been afforded as prince of Asgard.

Yes, being a guest in Stark Tower was incredible – the accommodations were fit for a god, and the billionaire was more than willing to indulge his whims (with a little sensual persuasion, that is).

He clambered out of bed, stripping off his green silk pyjamas. A glimpse of his figure in the mirror prompted a sigh, mildly exasperated but not terribly displeased. He looked much the same as he always had, save the bulge of fat that had appeared on his previously flat stomach. A careful examination would reveal that his thighs had also thickened slightly, and his behind had been padded out considerably. He couldn’t say that he was fond of the changes, but it was what they represented that irked him.

See, gods did not gain weight. That was a simple fact. Loki, as much as he loathed to admit it, was technically no longer a god. His power was gone, and he was essentially a mortal – ageless, yes, but still subject to all of the quirks that mortality brought. Weight gain, for example.

Muttering something unpleasant in Norse, the trickster pulled jeans and a T-shirt from the closet, the ones that he had worn on the day that he had unceremoniously appeared in Tony’s living room nearly two weeks ago. 

The grey shirt was pulled on with little trouble, though it clung around his middle, highlighting the soft curve. The jeans… those were another matter altogether. Tugging the slim-fitted pants over his thighs, the god, yanked them up and onto his body. They were practically skin-tight now, not that they hadn’t been a close fit before, and they were particularly tight around his rear. (Tony certainly enjoyed groping said rear, and would undoubtedly appreciate the view). 

Now came the fun part – buttoning. Sucking in his stomach, Loki tugged the zipper closed, fumbling the button closed with hasty fingers, before exhaling with relief. The pants were sinfully tight around his hips, and the softness of his stomach pouched up over the waistband, a tempting little roll of fat that most certainly did not belong on the body of a god.

Not bothering to comb the waves and tangles from his shoulder-length black hair, the trickster left the room and headed towards the kitchen. It was breakfast time, and he pretended that he couldn’t feel his stomach grumbling in anticipation. He most certainly did NOT have a weakness for Midgardian food.

\---

The kitchen was deserted, meaning that the inventor was not yet awake, so the god busied himself with making a cup of coffee – with cream and three sugars, naturally. It was as he took his first sip that Tony swaggered into the room, eyes hungrily surveying his houseguest. Those chocolate eyes came to rest on Loki’s waist, seeing the way that the too-tight clothing showed off that adorable bit of weight.

“Morning, sunshine,” the billionaire smirked, trying to ignore the sudden rush of desire.

“Good morning Anthony,” the trickster replied pleasantly, revelling in the attention being awarded to him by the attractive inventor. 

“Up for breakfast? I was thinking waffles, or pancakes. How about both?”

Loki’s mouth watered as he considered the options. He knew that such indulgence would only exacerbate the situation, but what was the harm, really? It would be far more pleasant to indulge his godly appetite than to go unsatisfied for the sake of something as shallow as appearances.

“Both will do nicely, I think,” he responded.

“Sure thing, gorgeous.”

Tony gave a wink that bordered on lecherous, much more pleased with the development than he would ever admit. He much preferred a partner with a little meat on their bones, something to hang onto during sex and to cuddle into after. Anorexic supermodels got boring quickly – there was something rather disgusting about doing it with a skeleton.

He wasn’t implying that Loki wasn’t incredible, but a bit more weight would make him just that much more perfect. Thanks to the god’s massive sweet tooth, this wouldn’t be a problem – all that the billionaire had to do was stuff the trickster with as much dessert as he could handle.

\---

As Tony came to the end of that train of thought, he was already flipping the chocolate-chip pancakes onto the plates to join the stacks of waffles. The trickster had gotten out the syrup and jam, and was now rummaging through the disaster-zone of the cutlery drawer for some forks. 

Sinking down onto stools on opposite sides of the marble tabletop, the billionaire and the mischief-maker surveyed their breakfasts, with Loki pretending not to notice how much more food that he had been given in comparison to Tony. Both men drenched their pancakes with syrup, and the god busied himself with slathering blueberry jam onto his waffles.

A shared smirk later, Loki dug into his meal, humming around the first bite of pancake before positively devouring the rest of the stack. The inventor ate considerably more slowly, relishing the sight of the other man eating, as well as the taste of the pancakes – he had gotten a lot better at cooking, thank you very much. It was amusing to watch the god eat, seeing his cheeks bulge out with food as he stuffed his mouth; the seductive way in which he would slowly lick the syrup from his sticky lips was also pretty awesome.

“Not bad, eh, Loki-dokey?”

Glaring around a mouthful of chocolate-chip deliciousness, the trickster swallowed heavily.

“It is acceptable, certainly,” he replied aloofly, as if he didn’t find the taste practically orgasmic.

“Ah, cut the crap. You know you love it.” Tony told the other man, incredibly smug about the way that he could make the god’s eyes hazy with food-lust while having only basic cooking skills.

“Maybe,” Loki teased. “Or maybe the food on Asgard is far superior to this pitiful offering.”

“So you always moan like a slut when you eat breakfast, then?”

The teasing escalated, the billionaire smirking at the fierce blush that this comment brought to Loki’s pale cheeks. He knew damn well that they had very few sweets in the god’s native realm, and that these tastes were absolutely mind-blowing to the trickster (even though the other never would admit it).

“Oh, be silent."

For once, the inventor listened, sitting back and watching as the taller man continued to eat, taking generous bites from the jam-smothered waffles. The blueberry preserve would smear across his chin, only to be lapped up by that dexterous tongue – it said something about how intoxicatingly sensual the god was, that Tony could become so aroused just by watching him eat.

Finished with his generous portion, Loki reached over to snag a waffle from the other man’s abandoned plate, which still had a fair amount of food on it.

“You greedy little-” the billionaire began teasingly, but was cut off by the trickster’s next words.

“Consider your words carefully, Stark.” The tone was amused, but not without seriousness.

A grin that might have been apologetic, but might also have been condescending, was his reply. Regardless, the god took another waffle, dipping it into the puddle of syrup before he devoured it. The expression of satisfaction on his face suggested that he was finally starting to feel properly full, as did the way that his hand strayed towards his stomach, resting there contentedly. 

Ah well. Tony was sure that he could get a heck of a lot more food into the god. He considered it to be an experiment of sorts – how the capacity of the man’s stomach for being (incredibly, painfully) stuffed changed over time and with repetition.

\---

Now that the plates were empty, the billionaire grinned devilishly.

“Watch the news with me, Doe Eyes?” He gestured over to the couch.

Seemingly unaware of the inventor’s plan, Loki made his way into the living room area – the thing about open-concept living was that it was hard to tell where one room ended and the next began – and flopped down onto the leather sofa with a groan.

Tossing the plates into the sink and grabbing a tub of vanilla ice cream from the fridge, Tony walked over to join him. He offered the container to the god, only to be met with a pained, pleading gaze. With a smirk, he reached down to unfasten the trickster’s too-tight jeans, watching as the swollen stomach surged forwards as it was freed.

“Better?” He was met with a skeptical nod. “Good. Now eat.”

The inventor’s tone was firm, and though the god ought to have put up at least a token argument to preserve his pride, he decided to forgo that in the face of such a tempting treat.

Iron Man turned on the news on the massive flat-screen television with just a brush of his fingers over the remote, as Loki took the container from his hands and practically tore off the lid. By the time the screen had flickered to life, the trickster was already contentedly spooning the frozen dessert into his mouth. 

The billionaire watched the news without seriously absorbing any of what was flickering across the screen, too busy wondering how the god didn’t get brain-freeze from eating the ice cream so quickly. Before he could so much as ask, the tub was empty, and the god was ordering him to go get more food. Muttering something about how he ‘didn’t take orders from anyone’, Tony did as he was asked, returning with an armful of goodies.

The expression of glee on Loki’s greedy face was thrilling, as he took in the sight of half-a-dozen candy bars, two bags of gummy candy and a massive chocolate muffin.

“Think you’re up for the challenge?” the billionaire grinned.

The trickster rolled his eyes as the other man deposited the pile of treats on the sofa between them, reaching over to grab one of the jumbo-sized candy bars. As he unwrapped it and began to eat, the inventor had to wonder. Why exactly was there so much junk food in the kitchen? It wasn’t as if he ate it, at least not the way that Loki did – then again, there probably wasn’t anyone in the world who ate the way that Loki did (except maybe Thor, but Thor didn’t really count, because he related to Loki).

A groan and the sound of crinkling wrappers shook Tony out of his thoughts and told him that the candy bars were now gone. The trickster was well and truly stuffed now, head lolling back against the cushions and feet up on the coffee table.

“Anthony…” came the whine, the god playing on the sympathy of his companion.

“No.” The billionaire responded firmly. “You’re going to finish every last bite.” He knew that the mischief-maker loved it when he got bossy – it turned out that he had just a bit of a submission kink. Awesome, right? He got to dominate a god.

A dark chuckle as Loki nodded, tugging open a bag of candy. He wasn’t about to let this mortal get the best of him, set him a task that he could not complete.

The first handful – yes, the trickster was eating it by the handful, rather than piece by piece – revealed a blend of artificial flavors that were meant to simulate fruits. They were far from it, at least in the god’s opinion, and they were so incredibly sweet that they were actually causing his teeth to ache.

Another handful followed, his face contorting in pain. Prior to becoming mortal, Loki had never understood the concept of being ‘stuffed’. Now, however, Anthony seemed to be determined to ensure that he embodied this concept at each and every meal. Then again, the trickster was hardly complaining. This Midgardian fare was remarkable, so incredibly sweet and –

A sudden cramp wracked Loki’s body, causing him to double over in pain.

“Shit!” The billionaire exclaimed, hands grasping at his trickster’s shoulders, expression alarmed.

“You worry too much, Stark,” the god chuckled, straightening gingerly. “Now. If you expect me to finish all of this, I expect your assistance.”

Tony instantly understood. As the raven-haired man settled against the backrest, the inventor was pulling up the hem of that T-shirt and shimmying down those dark jeans, exposing an achingly full stomach – it was so full that it was actually a brighter shade of pink than the surrounding flesh, as it was under so much strain.

“Tell me what you want,” he teased.

“For you to worship my flesh, mortal.” Came the huffy reply. Then, with a sliver of a grin, “After the massage, of course.” 

Oh yes, the billionaire grinned. He would worship Loki all afternoon, until they were both too tired to stand, never mind eat. For now, though, he would like to see the gorgeous god moan for entirely different reasons. So, with an obliging grin, he pressed his calloused fingers against that taunt orb, rubbing in broad circles.

A pleased groan was his response, and the god emptied the last of the artificial-fruit candy into his mouth. Scrunching up the bag, he bounced it off of Tony’s chest, before beginning on the second bag. Liquorice, it seemed, but far sweeter than that which was to be had on Asgard. He wasn’t entirely sure what made it so much better, however – the rush of sugar or the hands caressing his body.

Within a few minutes, the second empty bag went the way of the first, and Loki was smirking arrogantly. All that remained was a muffin. This would be child’s play… 

Or perhaps not. Approaching the last bite of muffin, the trickster was moaning with each small movement, arching against the soothing hand as he positively crammed the baked treat down his throat. It was so deliciously painful, and judging by the inventor’s expression, he was thoroughly enjoying the show. 

One last mouthful, accompanied by a lustful (and only slightly exaggerated) groan, swallowed down to join far too much unhealthy, delicious food in a stomach so full that the god could have sworn it was about to burst.

“So, Stark,” he gasped, breathless, “I am finished. My reward?”

“Chocolate.”

Tony pulled a half-unwrapped slab of rich Belgian chocolate from behind his back, knowing damn well that this was one treat that the trickster could not possibly resist.

“Bastard,” Loki hissed, but his eyes were gleaming with amusement.

“I’m pretty sure that my parents were married. Now, you want this slowly, or all at once?”

\---

It was perhaps half an hour later, as Tony was absentmindedly running his fingers over that engorged stomach and the god was licking the last traces of chocolate from his lips, that the elevator doors slid open. Both men froze.

“What the fresh heck is going on here?” Came the sound of Clint’s unmistakably irate voice.

“Security breach, Jarvis,” the billionaire groaned, turning to glare at the archer.

“Seriously? That’s all you’ve got to say?” Hawkeye sputtered. “A wanted criminal is on your couch, looking like he’s just held up an all-you-can-eat, and all you can do is be annoyed with me for barging in? Sorry to break up the party, dude, but this is insane! I mean, for fuck’s sakes – You’re TOUCHING him!”

Loki just sighed. “I take it that you don’t want to join us for dinner, then.”

The expression on Clint’s face was beyond priceless, and the inventor couldn’t help but to burst out laughing, bringing a satisfied grin to the features of the lounging, overstuffed god.

“Loki – heh – you are freaking hilarious!” Tony choked out between fits of laughter. “Now. I was thinking a cable, Pepper’s closet, a newscast, superglue and glitter – all 6000 feet up. Jarvis, cut outside communications. Lockdown status. Oh, and erase the footage. We’re going to have some fun.”

The archer gulped. Hell on wheels. This was going to hurt.

(He was right).

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the second part of a birthday present for my darling friend Ellie. Happy Birthday, doll!  
> I tried my best, dear, and hope that it's everything that you wanted (short of actually getting Loki in a box).
> 
> This is way outside my style, and my comfort zone, but I'd do anything for you.


End file.
